


Talk to Me

by danfics (starlight_brigade)



Category: Game Grumps
Genre: Anxiety, F/M, Gen, Language, Mental Health Issues, One Shot, Platonic Female/Male Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-27 16:03:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15688764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlight_brigade/pseuds/danfics
Summary: Dan fights through your adamant resistance to help you when your anxiety/depression gets bad.





	Talk to Me

_They hate you._  
No, they don’t.

Your mind seemed to constantly be at war with itself, and it was sometimes easy to get lost in the baseless assertions your anxiety made. 

_You’re being annoying._  
I’m doing fine.

You second-guessed yourself on that one. _Were_ you doing fine? You hadn’t said much the entire time you had been at the restaurant with your friends, and you had only eaten a little bit. You had been pretending to listen, smiling and laughing when socially appropriate despite everything being drowned out by your negative thoughts.

 _They only keep you around out of pity._  
My friends love me because of who I am. 

The meal ended, checks were paid, and as the whole table got up to go their separate ways, you excused yourself to go to the bathroom.

“Hey Dan.” Arin lightly grabbed Dan by the shoulder to pull his attention away from something that somebody else had said at which he was smiling and laughing. “Does (Y/N) seem a little… weird to you?” he asked, voice hushed.

Dan furrowed his eyebrows in concern and thought. “Uh, yeah, I guess so. Why? Is something wrong?”

“I don’t know Dan, that’s why I’m asking you,” Arin responded. 

You and Dan had been very close since you moved out to LA. From the first time you met, you hit it off immediately, and things quickly went from inviting you out for coffee and lighthearted exchanges to existential questions lighting up your phone at 3 AM. He usually had a pretty good read on you. 

And, come to think of it, you _had_ been pretty withdrawn lately. You weren’t engaging quite as much as you normally would. But you had been swamped with work, so he just chalked it up to you being stressed and overloaded. 

Arin saw through it though. It’s why he had invited you out to dinner with some other members of the Grumps crew. “Just ‘cause,” he had said when you asked him why. But in truth, it was because he was concerned about you, and he knew that these kinds of interactions with just a few other people where you weren’t pressured to keep up the conversation yourself was something that he knew helped you out of your funks in the past. It usually worked. But this time it didn’t seem to make anything better. So now he was employing the help of someone who knew you better than he did, someone who had a direct line to your internal world. 

Dan hadn’t thought much of it, but he saw Arin’s worry, and his first instinct was to say what he wanted to hear. “Yeah, sure, I’ll talk to her.” He didn’t really think about what he would say. But he wasn’t one to go back on promises either, regardless of how impulsively they were made. 

“Thanks man. Just… at least see what’s up. For me.”

After everyone had left, Dan stayed behind and waited up for you right outside the doors of the restaurant. 

“Fancy meeting you here. Come here often?” 

You breathed out a stiff laugh, half out of relief from being startled by him pouncing on you out of nowhere, and half from the actual content of his words. “Yeah, actually, I do.” You side-eyed him as he tagged along on your route, matching your moseying pace, to where you were parked in the parking lot. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“Not really.” That answer confused you. He usually did. The man was busy as all hell. “Am I bothering you?” There was playfulness in his tone, but you knew the question was genuine. 

It made you think for a moment. _Was_ he bothering you? No. Your anxiety had assumed that your pure existence was bothering _him_. So the doubts in your mind were entirely perplexed by his current advances. Relieved that he was actually approaching you, confused as to why.

 _It’s pity._  
He’s concerned.

How many other people were concerned?

Was it that obvious?

“You’re not bothering me,” you answered. 

“Well then. That solves that now, doesn’t it.”

“I suppose it does.” You smiled for a moment… 

_He has to want something from you._

… Then it faded.

“No but really, what’s up?” you asked, giving in to your self-doubt. 

“Oh, I’m sorry.” He stopped in his tracks, hands going to his hips in a dramatically offended stance, and you stopped and turned to face him. “Am I not allowed to want to hang out with you for no reason?” 

You raised a disbelieving eyebrow at him, and he capitulated easily. “Okay, yeah, it’s for a reason.”

“Knew it.” You turned and began back on your meander. 

His long legs caught back up with you in just a few strides, and you were already at your car. Curious as to what he wanted from you, you made no move to open the door, but instead turned and crossed your arms over your chest as you leaned your back against it nonchalantly, acting as playfully bemused as you could muster the ability to.

Hands stuffed in his jacket pockets, he leaned on his side against the back door next to you, facing you, looking at you. Giving you his full attention. Close enough that he could talk at a more private volume, but allowing you personal space. “It’s not that I want anything from you though, I promise.”

“Mmhm,” you droned in disbelief, “So what is it, Dan?”

“Uhh, well…” He broke eye contact with you, looking around at nothing in particular. He wasn’t great at confronting emotions head-on like this, but he didn’t know how else to go about finding out what was wrong. “I — Arin, too — we kinda noticed you’ve been… like… weird lately?”

You furrowed your eyebrows in semi-offense at his word choice.

“I mean, like… not weird, but. Different. I guess.” He was stumbling as he backpedaled from your reaction. “Anyway, I just wanted to see if you were okay."

You opened your mouth to give your automatic knee-jerk answer, ‘I’m fine,’ but he knew you were going to say that. Obviously, because he interrupted you before you could. “Like, actually okay. Not just, like… surviving. But okay.”

Surviving. Barely. That was your constant state, at war with yourself all the time. In recent years, you had gotten to a point in your life where the battles were quieted, gracing you with an armistice. But the duration of the truces were unpredictable, as were those of the fights. And some were bloodier than others. 

Even in the dim twilight of the late evening, you could see the concern in his expression, truly caring as he studied the look of sullen contemplation that you wore. You didn’t know how to answer him. You didn’t want him to worry about you, because there wasn’t any point in that, really, when you knew you would get over it eventually with nobody’s help but your own. You always did. The only person you could count on was yourself. 

But he was trying.  
And you really, really loved that.

“I mean, it’s not really anything in particular.” You looked around, avoiding eye contact. “It’s just been… weird lately. In my head.”

 _Stop. He thinks you’re weird._  
He understands. 

“I totally understand.” See? “ _Trust_ me, I’ve been there.”

You forced out a light, airy laugh in an attempt to ease the tension you felt, and he followed suit. 

“Seriously though,” he said, “can you promise me something?”

“Hm. Depends.” You responded with your signature indecisive and noncommittal answer to this question.

He recognized it and moved right past it. “Promise me you’ll talk to me if you need to.” He said this quietly, like he was embarrassed that somebody would overhear. But the sincerity behind it, obvious in the fact that he had to make himself say it anyway just because he cared about you and needed you to know it… that was something else.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, opening them on your exhale to look at him. His expression was sweet, dark eyes shining with concern. You nodded. “Yeah.” How could you say no to that?

He tilted his head down and raised his eyebrows expectantly. “...Promise?”

“Yeah.”

“Really?”

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, Dan. I promise."

“Okay.” He relaxed, and opened his arms in an invitation. “Bring it in.”

Rolling your eyes harder, you acquiesced. “There we go,” he murmured into your hair as you neutrally wrapped your arms around his waist and he reciprocated, harder than you were expecting. It wasn’t unwelcome though, and honestly, as you closed your eyes and let yourself melt into his embrace, you had forgotten how good human contact made you feel. 

A few comforting rubs and encouraging pats and he let you go, one hand staying behind on your shoulder to keep your attention as he made deliberate eye contact. “I’m serious.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” He patted twice and let go. “Drive safe, okay?”

“You bet.”

And yet despite all of that, nothing changed.

Another day went by of nothing. You did your daily activities on autopilot, responding robotically to your friends and coworkers, because you were caught up and distracted inside your own head. And every interaction made it worse, your brain telling you that you weren’t doing anything right, that you were worrying them for no reason, that you were annoying, that your general presence was unsatisfactory to those around you. 

Not really feeling like existing right then, you decided on soothing your growling stomach with plain tortilla chips eaten from the bag on the floor while you were horizontal on the couch in front of a movie you had seen a thousand times.

Your phone, situated on the coffee table in front of you, lit up, buzzing aggressively with an incoming call. You debated not answering it. 

But it was Dan. How could you not?

You answered the phone, lazily bringing it to the side of your face in the general location of your ear. “Hey.”

“Hey,” his soft voice, although slightly fuzzy from being translated over a long distance via radio waves, never failed to lighten your mood, even just a little bit. “Whatcha up to?”

“Uh…” You glanced at the TV. “Pretty much literally nothing.”

“Cool. Sounds like a good time.” His genuine laugh brought a hint of a smile out of you. 

_He has to want something._ “What’s up?"

“Nothing.” The over-innocence in his voice put a skeptical look on your face. “Really.” As if he could hear your look through your silence, his tone turned more genuine, although not losing the playfulness. Knowing you needed the positivity. “We just finished the Grump session and I just wanted to see what you were up to. I had a craving. For… I dunno. Talking to you.”

You were taken aback by the sweetness. “A craving, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” 

“Shouldn’t you be resting your voice?” He should be. He usually did. It’s why he rarely called you, preferring texts so as not to put any sort of unnecessary strain on his voice. His entire career was built on it; you couldn’t blame him for trying to make it last as long as possible.

“Yeah, probably,” he sighed, “But I knew you probably wouldn’t answer if I texted you.”

He was right. You probably would have let his message sit unanswered until you had enough energy to put on a lively facade.

“Why,” your self-doubt asked for you, phrased as more of a statement.

“What do you mean?”

Your active consciousness would have suppressed any following request for elaboration, but some part of you really did want to know the answer. “Why do you care.”

“Didn’t we _just_ go over this?” The playfulness hadn’t left his tone, as expected. He sighed. “I don’t fucking know. If anything, I should be asking _you_ that. It’s not _my_ fault you’re a rad fucking person.”

You forced out a breathy laugh. “It _is_ your fault that you think so, because that’s definitely an overrating.”

“I. _Strongly_ disagree.” The lightheartedness in his hard emphasis on the second word made it hard to tell whether any of this was coming from a place of honesty, or if he was just trying to make you feel better because that was just something that he did out of habit, out of the good nature of his heart, for everybody. He knew a lot of people. He talked to a lot of people. It couldn’t be just you.

_You’re not special._

You let out a disbelieving hum. “I guess we’ll just have to agree to disagree then.”

“Uh, no, sorry, I can’t do that.”

“No?”

“No. This isn’t a matter of opinion, it’s a matter of fact. You. Are. Rad. As. Fuck.”

“Oh yeah?” you challenged. It was simultaneously frustrating and incredibly heartwarming how hard he was trying. You had successfully convinced yourself that you weren’t worth time or effort that anyone could spend on you in any capacity, but somehow he had a direct line to your heart and made you question the things you had told yourself and taken as truth. 

“Yeah,” he confirmed, as if it were obvious.

You sat up, fully uncommitted to the movie that was still playing in front of you. “State your case.”

“Oh my god, where do I even start?” _How vain can you be, begging for validation like this?_ “First of all, you’re really fucking funny. I’m pretty sure that’s a given though, I don’t think Arin would have hired you if you weren’t.”

“Am I?”

“Uh, yeah, I’m pretty sure my already-rock-hard abs have gotten even more of a workout since I started hanging out with you.”

“Yeah, well, that’s because you have a personal trainer,” you grumbled. Argumentative. _For no reason. Stop it._

He continued as if he hadn’t heard you. “You’re also super fucking smart. Like… It’s impressive.”

“I’m glad my extensive internal database of useless trivia hasn’t gone completely unnoticed.”

“Yeah, well, I mean… Being constantly corrected is a little annoying…” There it is. “... But if it’s anyone who needs it, it’s definitely Arin.”

“Yeah, that’s true.” Arin was a fount of misinformation. It wasn’t necessarily his fault; he just tended to become his own unreliable source when he drew conclusions from unsteady foundations.

“And, dude, nobody’s without faults, man. I’m not gonna sit here and tell you you’re perfect. Because you’re not.” For once, your brain was silent as it listened. “But you’re a good fucking person. And that’s what matters.”

You didn’t have any more arguments.

“Is that enough for you?" he laughed, "Is your ego satisfied?”

You giggled at the dripping sarcasm in his tone. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Good. You fucking deserve it.”

You both laughed, the sound eventually dying down into happy sighs.

“Hey,” you said, breaking the short moment of silence.

“Hm?”

“Thanks.”

“No problem, man. I told you I’m here for you, and I fucking meant it.”

He did. You could tell. And for once, your self-doubt had nothing to say.


End file.
